...okay. More like the Time Traveller's Harmonica, but that does not a witty book title reference make.
When I was in university, my friend and sometime room-mate Adam was in a band called Aardvark and the Crumpled Sleeve. They played punk-blues: loud, fast, and with uneven levels of proficiency (the band got better over time, but there were other factors, such as the drummer's tendency to speed up with every beer, that cannot be overlooked). They were a wall of noise, which I usually hate.
I went to every show they played, except for the ones which happened while I was out of the province, and many of their rehearsals.
Understand, at that point in my life, music was What I Was Doing (which is one of the reasons I don't have a degree, but I digress). Adam was in another band, with me, many of our other friends were musicians, we were all writing music all the time, and listening to it, and performing it. So going to another band's rehearsals didn't seem as crazy in that context as it sounds in this one. Besides, you never knew when something incredible might happen, like the time Nathan's amp spontaneously caught fire mid-song. You can't pay for that kind of entertainment.
They played a reunion show last night, which I really ought not to have attended. They didn't even go on until 10:45, which is an hour after I have usually gone to bed, and I had to work today. But miss it? No way. Dude, I still remember the words, at least all of the words I could understand over the general blare. Before their set, Adam looked around the room and said "Huh. This is way more pregnant than our audience used to be." But what I was surprised by was how much it seemed like no time at all had passed. Looking at them under the stage lights, no one even looked older. Of course, offstage, we're all older. Eleven years older, in fact, with jobs and kids and better glasses. But it was a kind of magic--time travel--and I'm glad I went.
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2 comments:
Excuse my language, but that sounds fucking awesome. There is nothing like turning back the clock and realizing that time is irrelevant, and that friendship and music exist outside of the mental and physical erosion that time usually carries with it.
It's funny, I recently saw a video of the band I used to be in, someone posted it on Facebook and tagged me. We were worse than I thought, which is good since real punk should suck. Check it out, I think it's on my profile as a video of me.
We may be a wall of noise, but we've got some nuance. Snarling, grating, blaring nuance. I had a lot of fun, and was well chuffed (I hope I'm using that word correctly) that you made it, 'col. I'm not sure how good we were, but we were loud enough to almost send my wife into labour, and that's gotta count for something!
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